Episode three
1526 Words
Randy folded his newspaper with a sharp snap. “All you need to know is the man’s trouble.”
Wilson’s jaw tightened slightly. “What kind of trouble?”
“The kind that drinks too much and thinks anger makes him powerful.”
A cold feeling settled low in Wilson’s stomach.
He remembered Brittany’s black belt comment earlier. At the time it had seemed funny.
Now it isn’t.
“She never says much,” Maria added softly. “But sometimes Bob wakes up from nightmares calling for his mother.”
Wilson stared at the untouched crust on his plate.
Something about that bothered him more than it should have.
Maybe because he knew exactly what fear inside a home looked like.
Randy pointed a finger toward him. “And before you ask, no, the ex-husband doesn’t know she’s here.”
Wilson looked up sharply. “You sure about that?”
“As sure as we can be.”
The kitchen fell quiet for a moment except for the ticking clock above the stove.
Finally, Wilson exhaled slowly and stood, carrying his plate toward the sink. “I should probably get some sleep before your manager decides to finish me off tomorrow.”
Maria smiled faintly. “She really did kick you hard, didn’t she?”
“Woman nearly ended my future bloodline.”
Randy barked out a laugh loud enough to shake the windows.
At that exact moment, the telephone rang.
Everyone froze.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Maria frowned. “Who on earth calls at this hour?”
Wilson reached the phone first and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
For a second, there was only breathing.
Then a man’s voice slurred through the line.
“Brittany there?”
Wilson’s expression changed instantly.
“Who’s asking?”
A pause.
“Put my wife on the damn phone.”
Every muscle in Wilson’s body went still.
Behind him, Randy slowly lowered his coffee mug.
Wilson’s voice hardened. “She’s asleep.”
The drunk on the other end laughed roughly. “Then wake her up.”
Wilson glanced toward the stairs automatically.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Oh, she’ll talk.” The voice grew darker. Meaner. “Tell Brittany hiding in some tiny beach town won’t save her.”
A dangerous calm settled over Wilson.
“Who is this?”
“You tell her Marcus called.” Another ugly laugh followed. “Tell her I’m coming for my family.”
The line went dead.
Silence swallowed the kitchen.
Wilson lowered the receiver slowly.
Maria looked pale now. “Was that him?”
Wilson nodded once.
Randy shoved back his chair so hard it scraped across the floor. “That son of a bitch.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked softly.
Wilson looked toward the sound, every instinct suddenly on edge.
Brittany had no idea her past had just found her again.
********************
Brittany sat on the edge of her bed long after the phone call ended, her fingers locked so tightly together they ached.
Marcus had found her.
The realization rolled through her in cold waves.
She had known this moment might come eventually. Men like Marcus never accepted losing control gracefully. Even after the divorce papers were signed, even after the restraining order, he still acted as though she belonged to him.
What frightened her most was not what he might do to her.
It was what he might do to Bob.
A soft creak sounded from the connecting doorway.
“Mom?”
Brittany turned quickly.
Bob stood there rubbing one sleepy eye, his blond hair sticking up in every direction. He looked so small in the oversized dinosaur pajama shirt he refused to throw away.
“Did I wake you?” she asked gently.
He shook his head. “I heard the phone.”
Of course, he had.
Children always heard more than adults realized.
Brittany forced herself to smile. “Everything’s okay, sweetheart.”
Bob studied her carefully. Too carefully for an eight-year-old.
“Was it him?”
The question tightened her chest.
She hated that Bob no longer needed names to understand.
“Yes,” she admitted softly.
Bob lowered his gaze. “Was he drinking again?”
Brittany swallowed before answering. “I think so.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Bob crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside her.
“I don’t like him calling here,” he muttered.
Neither did she.
Brittany wrapped an arm around her son and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to worry about any of that tonight.”
“But you’re scared.”
Children noticed everything.
She brushed his hair back gently. “I’m just tired.”
Bob didn’t argue, which somehow made it worse.
“I wish I was older,” he said quietly. “Then I could protect you.”
Emotion hit Brittany so hard she nearly broke.
“Oh, baby.” She pulled him close. “It’s not your job to protect me.”
“But somebody should.”
The simple honesty in his voice shattered something inside her.
Marcus had done this.
He had turned their cheerful, carefree little boy into someone who checked locks twice before bed and watched adults’ moods like weather patterns.
Brittany took a steadying breath. “We’re safe here. Randy and Maria would never let anything happen to us.”
Bob nodded after a moment.
Then, with the suddenness only children possessed, he asked, “Do you think Wilson really meant it about helping me look for spiders tomorrow?”
Despite everything, Brittany almost laughed.
“Probably.”
“He seems okay.”
That caught her off guard.
“Okay?” she repeated.
Bob shrugged. “You kicked him really hard and he didn’t even get mad.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.
“No, I guess he didn’t.”
Bob yawned hugely before sliding off the bed. “Goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight.”
She waited until his bedroom door closed before lying back against her pillows.
Sleep never came.
The ocean crashed endlessly against the distant cliffs outside while her thoughts spun in restless circles.
Wilson Wesley.
After ten years, she still hadn’t figured out how hearing his name could affect her so deeply.
Seeing him tonight had stirred up memories she’d buried long ago. Bonfires on the beach. Late-night drives along the coast. The way he used to grin right before doing something reckless.
And the heartbreak afterward.
Brittany rolled onto her side and pulled the comforter higher.
Down the hallway, floorboards creaked softly.
Wilson.
She could somehow tell it was him.
His footsteps paused briefly outside her room.
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
For one foolish second, she imagined him knocking quietly on the door so they could sit together and talk until sunrise about everything that had happened between then and now.
But the knock never came.
A moment later, his footsteps moved away.
Brittany shut her eyes tightly.
Good.
Talking to Wilson Wesley was dangerous.
Because no matter how much time passed, some part of her still remembered exactly how it felt to love him.
---
Wilson stared at the ceiling of his old bedroom, wide awake.
The familiar room looked smaller than he remembered. Same cracked dresser. Same fishing trophies collecting dust on the shelf. Same view of dark pine trees swaying beyond the window.
Nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
He scrubbed a hand across his face and exhaled sharply.
Tonight had wrecked him.
Finding Brittany here had been shocking enough. Learning she was divorced—and terrified of her ex-husband—had unsettled him even more.
Then there was Bob.
Wilson frowned into the darkness.
The kid had Brittany’s eyes.
And something about the way he hovered protectively near her bothered Wilson more than he wanted to admit.
Children shouldn’t look at their mothers that way.
Not like they expected danger at any moment.
Marcus.
Even the man’s name irritated him already.
Wilson turned onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling fan.
He should leave Monday morning exactly as planned. Go back to San Francisco. Back to courtrooms, deadlines, and clients willing to pay absurd amounts of money for his expertise.
That was the smart move.
Clean. Simple.
So why did the idea suddenly feel wrong?
He thought about Brittany standing in the hallway downstairs earlier, clutching that ceramic vase like she was prepared to fight to the death.
She’d changed.
The old Brittany had once cried during sad commercials and rescued injured seagulls from the roadside.
This Brittany carried fear beneath her skin like armor.
Wilson’s jaw tightened.
He remembered another version of her too clearly to pretend he didn’t care.
Against his will, his mind drifted backward.
Summer. Warm sand beneath bare feet. Brittany laughed as ocean waves crashed around them. Her dark hair whipping wildly in the wind while she ran ahead of him down the shoreline.
She’d always laughed with her whole heart back then.
Wilson shut his eyes.
That was the Brittany he missed most.
Not the woman downstairs who flinched at late-night phone calls.
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